


Hanahaki

by Saladofhumanflesh



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Chief of Staff Edward Nygma, Ed is kind of a bad friend in this, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt, Hurt and Minimal Comfort, I Am Sorry, M/M, Mayor Oswald Cobblepot, Mentioned Isabella (Gotham), Oswald Cobblepot Loves Edward Nygma, Season/Series 03, Unrequited Love, as you can see at the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saladofhumanflesh/pseuds/Saladofhumanflesh
Summary: Oswald starts to feel sick. When it gets worse, he has to tell Ed about it.
Relationships: Isabella/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Hanahaki

It all started with this Isabelle. When Ed told him that he had met someone. Something in Oswald had suddenly hurt and he had felt sick. The memory of that day was still an uninvited guest in his thoughts. He remembers exactly how he had apologized and, as soon as he could with his leg, fled to the nearest bathroom. He couldn’t think about a time in which he had felt that ill before. He had found it difficult to breathe, and he thought he was going to explode from the inside. Then suddenly it was over. At least for this one day.

In the next few weeks something had changed. He started coughing but didn’t really think about it. Until it happened more often and became more painful. Olga had tried to take care of him, but what she did didn't help. When he finally started coughing blood, she had had enough.

"I call Edward," she said at the time.

By now, Oswald had long dismissed her. Edward, in any case, had not gone to his phone that day, and when he had called back a whole three days later, Oswald had gone to the phone, explained to him that everything was fine, that the call would have been by mistake, and then he had hung up.

And when he had a coughing fit shortly afterwards, after which blood-smeared petals lay in front of, and on, his shoes, he finally understood how serious his situation was. What he was sick of. If he had thought beforehand to go to the doctor, he knew at that point that he wouldn't. At least he had been able to make that decision easily. He would rather die out of love for Edward than forget his feelings, or even him completely.

In the days that followed, he prepared his resignation as mayor. And since he could not simply resign without telling Ed, he asked him in a telephone call for a meeting at the manor. Now he was sitting in front of his old fireplace, where the fire was now and then crackling, and next to him Ed had taken a seat.

For five minutes they sat there in silence, their eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Oswald seemed more tense and nervous than Ed had ever seen him. He was paler, even paler than usual, his complete attitude had shrunk to a minimum. That authority, which he had usually radiated, which had always earned him respect, was gone. He seemed small and vulnerable, and that was the aspect that had Ed really worrying. Oswald opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't know where to start.

“Oswald...?" Ed asked hesitantly into the silence.

He had wanted to carefully put a hand on Oswald's back, but when he suddenly began to tremble during that contact, he quickly pulled it away. Oswald began to cough terribly, so strong that tears ran out of his eyes. He held a hand in front of his mouth, but soon, Ed, who was sitting next to him as if he were paralyzed, could see how dark red blood was passing through the gaps between his fingers. How it dripped on Oswald's expensive suit and seeped into the fabric.

What he did not see were the little rose petals that Oswald could hide in his hand until the coughing fit was over. He then inconspicuously pushed them into his pocket as he turned away with the pretext of wiping the blood from his mouth.

Ed didn't know what was happening, because in his head he went through all the events in which he could have overlooked signs or symptoms of an obviously bad illness. Whatever Oswald had, he should have known. Why had he not noticed anything?

"Ed, I... I have to apologize for that," Oswald said.

“I asked you to talk to you about work," he continued.

At that point, Ed just stared at him in dismay.

"I have to tell you that...”

"How bad is it?" Ed interrupted him.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean?" Oswald said.

Panic spread in him when he thought of speaking the whole truth.

"Oswald!" said Ed suddenly louder. "How bad?!"

He shrugged, and that immediately made Ed feel sorry for raising his voice.

"I'm going to die Ed," he said so quietly that Ed almost wouldn't have heard it.

"No."

He didn't want to believe it.

“Edward..."

And when Ed heard his name, the way Oswald had said it, half whispering and so full of pain and sorrow, his head finally began to put together all the pieces of the puzzle. The penny fell, and everything he had overlooked was part of a big whole. The insight hit him like an electric blow. All he could get out was a surprised gasp.

"I should have told you earlier, after all, you lose your job and..."

"Oswald, if you lose a single word about work again _then..."_

The “ _I am going to kill you_ ” hang in the air unspoken. Edward started anew.

"I come here, see you almost literally coughing your soul out of your body, you tell me that you are going to die, and you seriously think that I am still interested in what happens to my job?! You'd have to know better than that, Oswald."

These statements made Oswald angry, and when he finally looked Ed in the face, one could see the dangerous flash in his eyes. _He's still there,_ thought Ed.

But Oswald's voice was not loud as he expected. Rather tired and exhausted.

"Is that the case, Ed? Do I know you better? You weren't there Edward. Since you met _her,_ you haven't even come by. You didn't call anymore. I was the one who called, and you were always the one who would hang up. And then I didn't go to work anymore because I was getting worse, and you don't even seem to have noticed. I've sent other people to do my job, I've always had representatives talk for me. Didn't you notice anything at all? We haven't seen each other since the day you told me about Isabelle. So, Ed, would I really have to know better?"

The last words were mixed with his sobbing. Oswald didn't care. He was fed up not crying.

Ed didn't say a word. Never in his life had he felt so guilty.

"You were... no, _are_ so happy with her that you forgot me. How could I have told you that I... That one day you met her, I wanted to tell you. It was just too late, and I didn't want to destroy your happiness. But now it doesn’t matter anymore. Do you understand? It wouldn't have changed anything.”

He started coughing again, this time he wasn't trying to hide the flowers, he just let them fall to the ground. Now even Ed couldn't hold back his tears.

Oswald made a choking noise. Edward didn't know what to do. Oswald just didn’t stop coughing. More and more flowers and blood were gathering. On the floor, on the sofa, in his lap, on his hands.

"Ed...", it was more of a suffocated gurgling than a name that Oswald brought out.

Edward understood, and he closed his arms as tightly around Oswald as he could. Again and again he muttered apologies in his ear, trying to calm him down. And in fact, the coughing stopped at some point, and Oswald no longer trembled in his arms.

Ed did not dare to let Oswald go again for at least ten minutes; the fear of the sight was simply too big.

When he finally dared to look, he immediately regretted it again.

The sight burned itself into his memory like a hot iron on his skin.

Oswald's eyes were wide open and red, his face still wet from the tears. Blood began to dry on his lips, at some point he probably hadn't wiped it away. And out of his mouth stood a rose petal, larger than the ones he had coughed out, and as red as his blood.

Ed somehow managed to get up, even though he felt incredibly weak. Arriving in the bathroom, he tried to wash the blood off his trembling hands.

_Why couldn't you tell him that you love him too?"_

He looked at the mirror.

"I didn't love him that way.”

The Riddler then looked at him impenetrable, as if he knew something that was still hidden from Ed. Suddenly, he started coughing. When he calmed down, he looked at the Riddler in panic.

"This can't be... I didn't love him! I did _not_ love him that way!"

A single tear ran across Riddlers face.

_"But I did."_


End file.
